


Monster

by 00javierbardem



Category: 00silva - Fandom
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00javierbardem/pseuds/00javierbardem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James rescues Tiago from his Chinese captivity. As Tiago recovers from his torture, James realizes that the only thing he must rescue the man from... is himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's All Over Now

**Author's Note:**

> Super excited for this fix! Have worked super hard on it and I want it to be my best yet! Thanks to @casualvendetta for the support! Sometimes I really need it :) Enjoy! Feedback is welcome!

Monster

 

1997

“Shit!” James exclaimed, swerving the Ashton Martin sharply to the right in a frantic attempt to make his turn. He succeeded, much to the cars’ screeching protest, and sped down the road well over the speed limit. “Where are you? Where are you?” he chanted to himself, his eyes scanning the Chinese symbols on each of the run-down, filthy warehouses. “Come on, dammit!” He shouted, reducing his speed slightly, impatience brewing within him, almost as powerful as the panic he was already consumed by. His eyes lit up when he found the symbol that matched the one he had drawn sloppily on the back of his hand. “Bingo!”

James slammed on the brakes, much harder than he had intended to. He threw the door open and pumped his legs as quickly as he could, racing towards the door in the humid night air, fueled by the fear of what he might find. He whipped out his pistol and instantly shot the lock off of the rusty steel entrance door, kicking it open with all of his force. He was instantly hit with a wave of thick heat, and the sour stench of sweat and blood that stung his nostrils. He proceeded in, unfazed, with his gun aimed and at the ready.

The room was pitch black, only the full moonlight that pooled in the doorway providing any source of brightness. James pressed himself against the wall, which was damp with God-knows-what, easing himself along stealthily. “Tiago?” He called out in a hushed tone. “Tiago? Are you here?” There was nothing but cold, bitter silence. “Tiago, please answer me,” James plead. Still nothing. He huffed, mentally cursing at his thudding heart as he continued to ease along the wall. He paused when his shoulder bumped something protruding from the wall’s surface. Cautiously, his hand felt around the object, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he realized it was a light switch. The room was now illuminated with a dim yellow glow, and James had to cover his mouth from what he saw.

The walls were drenched in blood, thick and bright in a shade of unforgiving red. It seeped down their surface and was splattered in areas, like some sadistic freak was using it as paint for his canvas. Chains and cuffs were cemented to the wall to restrain their victims. Along the far wall, rows of sharp metal objects were neatly organized, each one no doubt a horrific torture device. James swallowed his awe and warily paced forward. “Tiago?” he asked, still not catching sight of the man. This time, his call was responded to with a vague groan. James’ grip on his gun tightened and his heart accelerated, beating like a hammer against his chest. He followed the sound.

Cautiously, he entered another room. His breath caught as his eyes landed upon the limp silhouette strapped to the chair in the middle of the room. “Tiago,” James breathed. He stepped forward, fearful of what he might see. As he drew nearer, he was flooded with an overwhelming sense of relief as the profile of Tiago’s face became sharper. James shoved the gun into the back of his pants and quickly went over to assist the man.

“Tiago, I’m going to-“ James froze in horror. Tiago’s body was bare, filthy, bruised, beaten, and bloody, but that wasn’t the source of his terror. The left side of Tiago’s face was… distorted. His cheek had collapsed into the hollow of his face and the skin beneath his eye had grotesquely stretched with it, revealing the pink flesh beneath. Blood still pooled profusely from his mouth. His eyes were open, but they were glazed over and distant. He wasn’t breathing. James clenched his teeth and cupped his hand over his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, rejecting the sight before him. Hot tears streamed down his face as he shook his head in denial.

“No!” James bawled, crumbling to the ground. This was all his fault. He had been too late. “God, no!” James howled. He clawed at his face, attempting to rub the tears away, but they persisted in a slow, steady stream. He sat on the ground for what felt like an eternity, trying to collect himself. After a while, he arose, clenching his teeth as he forced himself to look at Tiago. “I’m so sorry I was too late,” he whispered, his voice cracked with emotion. He leaned in and kissed Tiago’s head, running his hand gently through his chocolate brown hair. Defeated, James was ready to turn and walk away, but he paused, something catching his eye. Tiago’s eyes slowly roamed over to his, lifeless and slow. But there was a glint in them. A plea. Tiago was just barely alive. 

James reached out and clutched at Tiago’s hand eagerly. “I’m not giving up on you yet,” he said in determination. He unlatched the cuffs that restrained Tiago’s wrists, and gently hoisted the man up. He was dead weight, since he was far too weak to support himself at all. James strained himself as he practically carried Tiago from the warehouse.

As gently as possible, James set Tiago down in the passenger seat of the DB5. He hopped into the driver’s seat and fastened his seat belt briskly. Checking in his rear view mirror, his heart froze as he saw a handful of angry-looking Chinese men hop into a jeep several hundred meters away. James had been caught. Clenching his jaw and muttering a slew of curse words, James slammed on the accelerator.

“Hold on, Tiago,” James whispered, gaining incredible amounts of speed by the moment. The jeep was not far behind and getting closer by the second. The Chinese guards in the bed of the vehicle were firing their guns into the air recklessly, making a scene in the empty city streets. James made a hard left turn, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as the DB5 drifted noisily. Tiago groaned in protest of the maneuver. James watched in the rear view mirror as the jeep followed suit seconds later, just fifty or so meters behind. He winced as gunfire erupted once again, this time clattering against the back of the DB5.

“Shit!” James shouted, ducking his head the best he could without peeling his eyes from the road ahead of him. He pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator, hoping to lose them with speed. It worked to some degree, as the jeep’s distance lengthened slightly. He sped down the road, thanking the heavens the city street was vacant. James checked the progress of the jeep behind him, and furrowed his brow at its absence. It had disappeared. James didn’t hesitate. He sped towards the nearest intersection and sharply swerved to the right…and braced himself as the jeep reappeared to his left, the DB5 making contact with the side of it. James’s head was slammed against the driver door on impact, jarring his senses and causing the world to become blurry. He was painfully aware of the car’s screeching halt, the ceased movement, and the infuriated Chinese men as they threw the door open and dragged James onto the pavement. He slowly regained composure and was hit with a burst of searing pain as one of the men kicked him hard in the ribs. He yelped in pain as he was forced back to his feet, held back by the arms by two goons. One of the men strolled over tauntingly slow to the passenger side, and James panicked. Not Tiago….

“Don’t touch him!” he slurred. The man grinned devilishly as his hand reached for the door handle. “Don’t!” James shouted, nearly begging. The man opened the car door… and was stopped dead in his tracks, as a dark red circle appeared onto his forehead suddenly, expanding across his skin. The man instantly collapsed. James winced as the men holding him back were picked off as well, then the rest of the panicked guards. James breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the dead bodies around him. A moment later, Marcus jogged from the first story entrance of one of the nearby buildings, carrying a sniper on his back.

“You nearly cost me my life,” James remarked coldly to the middle-aged, green-eyed American. He shrugged in response.

“Sorry, had to figure out which one to hit first. There were more than I expected.” James scoffed and walked over to the passenger side to check on Tiago, who was still barely breathing.

“Well, you chose wisely. He almost got to him,” James replied, hoisting Tiago out of the car. “A little help?” James suggested sarcastically. Marcus pursed his lips in amusement and went over to lift Tiago’s scrawny legs. 

“You were right about them taking that short cut. They sure fell into that trap like a rat in a cage, huh? Damn… They sure beat the hell out of him,” Marcus said with a grimace, ignoring the icy glare James shot at him.

“Yeah… they did,” James replied after a moment as he and Marcus carried Tiago over to the ’97 Cadillac Eldorado parked on the curb. They set him in the passenger seat gently, then James strolled around to the driver’s seat, opening the door.

“Hey, James?” Marcus said solemnly. James looked at him with his stunning blue eyes. “What happened to his face?” Marcus asked, nodding towards Tiago. James’ eyes fell to the pavement, and he swallowed, fighting back the memory of when he first discovered Tiago. He knew full well what had happened, but he surely didn’t want to.

“I don’t know,” James lied. “But I intend to find out.” Marcus nodded in understanding. “Thanks for doing this,” James said. Marcus smiled in response.

“Sure thing,” he replied. Then he turned and jogged off into the night. James heaved a sigh. His adrenaline was beginning to wear off and the pain from the confrontation was starting to kick in. He got into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and drove off.

* * *  
Breath in. Breath out. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly. Don’t strain yourself. Take it slow. Slower. Breath in. Breath out. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly.

Tiago peeled his eyelids open, flicking them back closed instantly from the searing whiteness that flooded them. After another moment, he tried again. His eyes fluttered open more easily this time, not quite as sticky from dormancy. The light pierced through again, but he forced his eyes to stare into it, in fear that if he shut them again they would never reopen. The light slowly faded into dimness, and he suddenly realized he was staring up at a plain white ceiling. There was a ceiling fan spinning lazily in the corner of his eye, but he didn’t dare turn his head.

He steadily became more aware as his senses regained function. His throat was as dry as sandpaper, and he instantly craved a tall glass of water. His body ached from head to toe, but nothing compared to the pain he vaguely remembered. His mouth felt strange, and upon moving his tongue, his blood froze. His tongue swiped against something cold and sturdy along his inner left cheek, and the familiar tang of metal reverberated throughout his mouth. Frightened, he ignored it out of fear of what it was or why it was there. He pushed the thought away.

He worked up the nerve to turn his head, his neck cramping in protest as he did. Cringing, he twisted it to his right. His eyes fell upon a nightstand with countless pill bottles atop it, each one half empty. He also saw an IV stand, and his eyes trailed along the tube, which to his terror, led straight into his arm. His eyes widened in fear and panic. He brought his other arm across, reaching for the needle that was stuck into his skin. He was just about to yank it out when a youthful voice cut through the silence.

“Don’t.” Tiago raised his head gently as a man appeared into his vision. He was handsome and muscular with stunning blue eyes and short blonde hair. Tiago’s lips parted in surprise. “That IV is giving you vital fluids,” the man explained with a smile that didn’t match his tired eyes. Tiago’s eyes became watery with recognition.

“James?” He croaked, his voice weak and pathetic, but he didn’t care. James leaned in to let Tiago hug him as tightly as he could and he clawed at the man’s back like he never wanted to release. Tears slid down his cheeks and onto James’ shoulder. James pulled away, handing Tiago a glass of water, which he chugged like he had never had a drop of it a day in his life. “More,” he requested between breaths. James nodded and went to fetch another serving of water. He returned and gave Tiago the glass, which he downed just as quickly. Then he tossed the glass to the floor carelessly and embraced James once again.

“You came for me. You actually came for me,” Tiago whispered, producing another stream of tears. 

“Of course I came for you,” James responded, growing emotional himself. Tiago felt frail and delicate in his arms, like one accidental squeeze would cause him to shatter into a million pieces. This only added more to James’s tears. “I would never ever have left you there.” Tiago clutched at James harder, fearing that even slightly lessening his grip would force him straight back into the hell from whence he came. He squeezed his eyes closed as hard as he could, fighting away the memories of the pain and the torment. Black and white scenes flashed through his mind of his captors bearing weapons and that devilish grin upon their face. He was invaded with the memory of the middle-aged woman with those penetrating blue eyes and silvery grey hair. He felt a twinge of dread in his gut as he bawled into James’ shirt.

“I’m so scared, James. I’m so scared,” he wept. James swallowed hard, letting the tears free fall down his face, no longer caring to resist them.

“I know. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. It’s all over now,” he replied.


	2. Nightmares

“How long have I been out?” Tiago questioned grimly. James sat on the edge of the bed, staring deeply into the man’s brown eyes.

“Since I rescued you? Four days,” James responded, his face void of emotion. Tiago nodded sullenly. “I… I tended to your wounds the best I could. You were unconscious and rather difficult to bathe, but I tried my hardest.” Tiago could tell from the dimness in James’ eyes that his injuries were severe. He flicked his tongue once over the foreign metal object in his mouth in memory and James noticed the shift in his jaw because of the movement. His eyelids drooped, aware of the unavoidable subject that hung heavy in the silence between them.

“Tiago… I had to have the left half of your upper jaw replaced. The-“

“Did you do it?” Tiago interrupted in a desperate attempt to change the topic. James parted his lips in understanding, giving a slight smirk.

“No. One of my old colleagues who was visiting here from Germany came by and did everything. He specializes in smaller jaw injuries, but he was able to pull this off.” Tiago nodded but said nothing. One particular question prodded at his thoughts until he swallowed his fear and just asked it.

“James… How bad off am I?” he asked, fear dwelling in his eyes. James furrowed his brow in objection.

“Tiago, you shouldn’t-“

“No, James. I need to know.” After a pause, James nodded in understanding and stood from the bed with a deep sigh.

“Can you walk?” James asked through a clenched jaw. Tiago ignored his obstinance and peeled the sheets from off of his body. He slowly swung his thin legs around and pressed his feet to the warmth of the thick carpet. James supported his upper body as he stood. “Okay, let’s take this slow and steady.” Tiago took one step forward, then another. His legs were wobbly, but stronger than either he or James had anticipated. Leisurely, James led him to the bathroom. 

They stopped in front of the large mirror and Tiago examined his face. There were small cuts dotting his forehead and a few big purple bruises around his eyes and nose. His mouth was still stained with the remnants of dried blood and his lips were still swollen from the punches.

“Not as bad as I had feared,” Tiago noted light-heartedly. He smiled into the mirror and was surprised to see teeth identical to the ones he had before the incident. “Wow, the doctor did an amazing job!” James smiled at Tiago’s cheerfulness, but something was haunting his mind. It was visible in his eyes, which had seemed to fade into a stormy blue. Tiago looked at him with concern. “What is it?” James’s fatigued eyes wandered to Tiago’s face, then to his T-shirt. Tiago followed his gaze. Reluctantly, he lifted the shirt up.

Tiago stifled a gasp at the sight before him. His chest and abdomen were coated in gruesome scars of all shapes and sizes. Some bore tiny black stitches sewn across them while others were bandaged. Some were minor and left exposed, but each was still red and inflamed and exposed flesh beneath. Each of them were still raised from his skin. James held Tiago’s shirt up as he twisted around to get a view of his back. His entire back was bandaged from the long slender gashes that were sure to be lurking beneath the wrapping. Tiago grimaced at the memory of being pinned down while they took a whip to his back until he could feel flesh peeling off.

“Like I said, I did the best that I could in tending to them,” James muttered, letting Tiago’s shirt fall back over his body. Tiago’s head drooped, as did James’ heart when the man began weeping. James wrapped his arms around him, remaining silent as the heart-wrenching sobs were released.

* * *  
There was little but the darkness. Tiago turned his heavy head lazily to the side to find that his wrists were cuffed to a contraption of some sort. They hung down by his side. He sighed and let his head droop so that his chin rested on his chest. His lip quivered in dread of the horror that awaited him.

On the other side of the room, a door was kicked open and light pooled in. Three men entered, all marching towards Tiago like they served some sick kind of purpose for doing so. Two of the men retreated behind Tiago and out of his sight while the third stood several meters ahead of him, his arms clasped behind his back. His face was blurry in Tiago’s vision.

Suddenly, the contraption he was restrained to made a deep mechanical buzzing sound and Tiago’s arms were shot outwards swiftly. The quick and sudden movement made Tiago groan from the aches in his arms and shoulders. He let his head droop again. The guard ahead of him approached him slowly, placing his finger under Tiago’s chin to lift his head and stare into his cold, beady eyes. 

“I am going to make you suffer,” The man said, his voice low and chilling, but still thick with an accent. Then he briskly walked away from Tiago and spun around once he was at about the same distance he was from him before. His hand crept behind his back and he withdrew a long, skinny object that slithered to the floor. A whip. Tiago’s throat went dry at the sight of it.

The guard wound back his arm and with all of his strength, shot the whip forward. Tiago yelped at the lashing sound and at the streak of pain that shot through his chest. A thin red line appeared on his torso, deep enough to cause blood to trickle down his body. There was another crack, this time it caught him in the jaw as well as his collar bone. Then another, this one slashing his rib cage, and another, which tore at the first wound. Tiago could do little but cry out and wince as his body was slowly sliced apart.

After several more, the guard quit. Tiago’s entire chest was covered in a deep and unforgiving red. Each and every nerve on his chest was on fire. The guard set down the whip with a smirk. Then he slowly paced in front of Tiago, like a predator waiting to leap on its prey.

“Do you know what I love about having steel-toed boots?” Tiago stared at the man with heavy lids but didn’t want to answer. Suddenly, the guard charged forward, delivering a powerful kick to Tiago’s groin. Tiago’s head flew backwards as he screamed in pain, tears pooling from his eyes. He fell to his knees with his mouth agape, as a relentless nausea stirred in his stomach at the throbbing pain in his genitals. 

“That’s more like it!” The guard shouted enthusiastically, cackling at the sight of Tiago’s pain. “I love that they are so deeply painful to those on the other end of them.” He went over and released Tiago’s wrists from the cuffs. Tiago fell to the floor on his stomach, still suffering from the kick. The guard kicked Tiago in the ribs hard, so that he was forced to turn onto his back. He kneeled down, feet on either side of Tiago and withdrew a small pocket knife. 

“Let’s see if this gets that pretty voice working,” he said with a sharp grin. Tiago barely had time to cringe in fear before the blade was plunged into his thigh-

“NO!” Tiago screamed shooting upwards from the bed. James awoke just as quickly at the sound of Tiago’s panic. “STOP HURTING ME!” Tiago shouted, sobbing as he did so. James tapped his hand on Tiago’s cheek.

“Tiago!?” James yelled. Tiago’s eyes shot over towards James, where after a moment, they softened. He collapsed into James’ arms, bawling.

“Oh God, James!” he sobbed, tearing at James's heartstrings. “Don’t let them get me! Please don’t let them get me!” 

“Shhhh… it’s alright. You’re fine. Nobody’s going to get you. You’re with me. You’re safe,” James soothed. Tiago’s T-shirt was drenched in sweat to the point where it even bore a putrid stench. James rubbed Tiago’s arms for comfort as the man steadily began to calm down.

“Do you want me to get you a new shirt? You’ve soaked yourself out of this one.” Tiago sniffled as he nodded. James threw the sheets across the bed and swung out his legs. He went to stand when Tiago’s arm gripped him.

“Wait! Please don’t leave me! I can’t be alone. Please don’t leave me,” Tiago begged. James agreed to stay as the man neared tears again. “I can’t be alone, James. They’ll come for me if I’m alone.”

“No, they won’t, Tiago. We’re in Macau, a ways away from Hong Kong. They won’t find you. You’re safe here,” James explained softly. Tiago nodded slowly in understanding. “Do you still want a new shirt?” Tiago nodded. “Okay, I have to go into the next room, but I’ll be right back.” 

James went to fetch Tiago a grey T-shirt. He returned and strolled over to his side of the bed. “Let me help you,” he insisted. Tiago gently raised his arms above his head, grimacing at the ache in his shoulders, no doubt from the countless times they were put in that position before. James lifted Tiago’s shirt up and over his head and gently up past his arms. He tossed the wet shirt to the floor. James examined Tiago’s bandages.

“You need a shower and your bandages need changing,” James said. 

“We can do it now. There’s no way I’m going to sleep again tonight,” Tiago replied. James reluctantly agreed.

* * *  
James peeled off the final bandage on Tiago’s back and turned the shower on. 

“Alright, Tiago. Your trousers,” James said grimly, knowing how much the other man must have been dreading this part. “I won’t look,” James said for comfort. Tiago swallowed as he tugged his trousers down and stepped out of them. James peeled the bandages from the man’s legs.

“Alright, now you can step in. The water’s warm, but take it slow. This won’t be easy,” James explained. Tiago nodded solemnly and stepped into the shower, slowly easing his body under the water. He hissed in pain. James removed his shirt and stepped in to help the man, sliding the shower door shut behind them. James squeezed some shampoo into his hand and massaged it into Tiago’s dark hair gently. Tiago closed his eyes, relaxing a bit into James’s touch. 

James then reached for the body was, squeezing it onto a shower sponge. “Turn around,” he told Tiago. The man turned to face James. His eyes stared uneasily at the sponge in James’ hand. “I’ll be gentle. I promise,” James said, reading the other man’s thoughts. Tiago nodded in acceptance and let the man lightly drag the sponge across his chest. He eased over the wounds and patted at those that were more severe, but the pain was minimal for Tiago. He smiled as James did his work, fully aware that James had the ability to seriously hurt him, but he chose not to. That was something Tiago hadn’t experienced in a long long time.

James grabbed the shower head and rinsed the soap and shampoo from Tiago’s body, placing back in its position above them when he finished. He reached for the knob to turn off the shower, but Tiago’s hand caught his. James stared into Tiago’s big brown eyes and suddenly they were both thinking the same thing.

They leaned in slowly until their lips met. Tiago massaged James’ gently with his own. James slid his tongue into Tiago’s mouth gracefully, ignoring the metal plate it came into contact with. Tiago moaned as James’ hand lightly trailed down his chest, reaching for his c-

“Stop,” Tiago said, a bit more harshly than he intended. James eyebrows went up in concern. Tiago sighed. “Sorry. It’s just… I can’t take this any further right now. I’m too weak.” James nodded his head in understanding, turning the shower hose off.

“Well, let’s get you dressed then,” James announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note! The whole thing about James having potential to hurt Tiago, but choosing not to is an homage to "The Scene" in Skyfall, since that also applies to what Silva did :)


	3. Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things start to get very dark and gritty. This chapter is a peek of what is to come from Tiago's character. It wasn't easy to write, by any means. Very draining, to say the least. But I hope you'll enjoy it!

James awoke to the sound of screaming in the dark. He shot up from his bed, his eyes going wide in panic at the absence of Tiago next to him. He bolted from the bed and into the bathroom, busting the door open and freezing at the sight before him. Tiago was curled into a ball on the floor in the corner of the room, rocking back and forth with wild eyes and muttering inaudible sentences.

“Tiago?” James called, trying to keep the shakiness from his voice, but with little success. The moonlight pouring in from the bathroom window glinted off of an object clenched in Tiago’s fist. James stepped forward cautiously. Tiago had stopped his mumbling, but his eyes were still crazed, staring off into nothingness.  
“Tiago, it’s me. It’s James. You’re safe. Everything is okay,” James comforted calmly, raising his hands to display his pure intentions as he approached the man. Tiago’s eyelids drooped slowly, as if from fatigue. James got near enough to him to place his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“James… James…” Tiago whispered distantly, as if he was trying to recall where he’d heard the name before. James sat down against the wall next to Tiago, lightly placing his hands around the man. “James… James….” Tiago continued. James sighed tiredly. His eyes wandered to the blade Tiago gripped in his hand.

“Tiago, give me the knife,” James said quietly. Tiago’s eyes instantly widened again and he shook his head frantically, on the verge of a mental breakdown. 

“NO! You can’t have it! It’s mine! It’s my only protection from them!” Tiago shouted, his eyes growing watery as he did. James pressed himself closer to the man in an effort to soothe him.

“Shhhh… okay, okay. It’s alright. You can keep it. But you’re safe, do you hear me? Nobody is ever going to hurt you ever again,” James calmed. Tiago squeezed his eyes shut, pushing tears from them as he did.

“I don’t want to go to sleep again, James. I can’t. It’s too awful. I can’t do this anymore, James. I can’t live in fear,” Tiago sobbed into James’ shirt, his hand fidgeting with the blade. “Please, James. Please… just kill me.” 

“God, Tiago, don’t say that,” James demanded, his voice growing shaky with emotion. “Don’t ever say that! I will never ever do such a thing! And neither will you!” James insisted. Tiago was silent. His bawling had ceased suddenly. He lifted his head up and gazed into James’ moist eyes, his own very dark and grim.

“Please…” he begged. “Do what I ask. I can’t go on like this. I cannot live in constant fear and I cannot sleep with the constant reminder of what has been done to me. Just do it, James. I am nothing but a burden to you and that is all I will ever be. Put me out of my misery,” Tiago drawled in a deep, monotoned voice. He held out his trembling hand and dropped the blade into James’ lap, revealing the gashes on his palm from how tightly he had been holding the knife. James stood angrily.

“No, Tiago! Get that fucking knife away from me! I will NEVER do such a terrible thing! And I will NEVER let you, either!” James yelled, retrieving the knife and hurling it at the wall in rage. Tiago watched on in silence as James paced in anger, huffing as he did so. “Do you think it’s easy for me to see you like this!? To go through with life knowing what has been done to the only man I’ve ever loved!?” Tiago was taken aback by those last words, but James was too caught up in his tantrum to realize what he’d said. He delivered a hard punch to the wall, grimacing afterwards.

“Dammit, Tiago! Look at yourself! Look at me! Do you think it is easy for me to wake up to you screaming in fear!? To wake up to you and see the pain in your eyes?” James asked, his anger steadily fading, leaving only exhaustion behind. “It’s so embedded in them, it’s as if they were made like that,” James sighed in a croaky voice. Tiago stared at the floor in silence. “Tiago, I think I love you. Wait, no, I know I do. And it’s killing me inside to see you like this.” Tiago raised his head, his eyes appearing completely black in the moonlight.

“How do you think I feel?” He said harshly. “If you don’t have the strength to kill me- to finish what I started in Hong Kong- then I guess you’re just as useless as I am,” Tiago spat, before whisking out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. James buried his face in his hands, the throbbing in his knuckles from his fit almost as painful as the sting from Tiago’s words. Quietly, he broke down into tears.

Hours later, James emerged from the bathroom with bloodshot eyes. It was still pitch black outside through the windows and all was quiet except for the grunts coming from Tiago’s nightmare. James trudged across the room, over to Tiago’s side of the bed and sat in the leather chair. He watched the man fidget and toss and turn, moaning and grunting, wishing for all he was worth that it was him suffering from those nightmares and not Tiago. Anyone but Tiago.

That night, James never fell asleep. Tiago never stopped suffering.

* * *  
“I don’t remember what I said last night, but I’m sorry,” Tiago muttered, staring down at the food on his plate. James sat at the dining table with his own plate of breakfast with his eyebrows raised.

“Obviously you do remember, or you wouldn’t feel the need to apologize,” James shot back. Tiago winced at the sharp reply. 

“Then, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was…scared,” Tiago muttered, almost inaudibly. Then he stood from his chair, ready to leave the room, when James grabbed his arm. Tiago’s head whipped around, fear in his eyes. James looked at him with deep concern.

“No, I’m sorry. I saw what you go through last night, and I shouldn’t have been so angry with you. But please… please don’t bring that up ever again,” James pleaded softly. Tiago’s eyes fell, knowing exactly what James meant. He nodded solemnly. James pursed his lips as Tiago sat back down at the table, eating a chunk of his pancakes.

“I’m going to the pharmacy today to see if I can get you some pills that will help you sleep,” James announced. Tiago shot him a worried glance. “They’ll be strong enough to knock you out… without nightmares,” James emphasized. Tiago smiled at the pleasant thought as he took a bite of bacon. James smiled at the sight of the other man’s relief. Suddenly, the phone rang.

“Who the hell would be calling me at this hour?” James noted as he strolled over to answer the phone in the living area. He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Double-oh-seven,” M greeted. James swallowed hard at the sound of her voice. She didn’t know of his rescue mission and it was better to keep it that way. James glanced over at Tiago, who was obliviously eating his breakfast. James picked up the telephone and walked into the bedroom for more privacy.

“Yes, ma’am,” James answered.

“Why the bloody hell are you in Macau? And why haven’t you called?” She demanded.

“Sorry, ma’am. I’ve been working with Marcus on one of his more private missions and it has proven to be taking longer than expected,” James replied, stretching the truth as much as he could without blatantly lying to her.

“What the hell sort of mission does he have in Macau? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know. All I want to know is when the bloody hell you’ll be returning to servicing your own country.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, ma’am. It shouldn’t be more than another month,” James responded, trying to buy as much time as he could for Tiago before James had to return to work.

“Bloody hell… And what do you suppose I do until then, grow a garden? I need you back at work, double-oh-seven. All the other agents are preoccupied with missions of their own,” she persisted. James cracked a smile at her desperation and her witty sense of humor.

“I’ll be back in no time, ma’am,” James replied. M sighed over the line.

“Very well then. But I’ll be damned if I’m not taking this out of your vacation days,” she quipped. With that, she hung up. James set the phone back down. 

“What did she want?” James was startled by the voice behind him. He spun around.

“Damn, you scared me, Tiago,” James scoffed. He quickly sensed something off about the other man.

“I said, what did she want?” Tiago repeated, an unmistakable iciness to his tone. His eyes were glued to James’ face in an eerie manner and his jaw was set as if he were clenching it. James furrowed his brow in concern.

“She just wanted to know when I’d be back is all,” James replied casually, trying to lighten the situation.

“What did you tell her?” Tiago asked, the same coldness in his tone as before. His eyes wandered to the window behind James, where they remained. His fists were clenching and unclenching by his sides. James felt just as confused as he was worried.

“Tiago-“

“What did you tell her, I said,” Tiago repeated, making no attempt to filter the bitterness from his tone.

“I said a month,” James replied bluntly. “Tiago, do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Tiago’s eyes returned to James’s worried expression, and after a long pause, his face cracked into a grin.

“Nothing, darling,” Tiago said with a hollow chuckle. “Nothing at all.” Then he walked out of the room, disappearing just as quickly as he had appeared. James couldn’t shake the uneasiness from his mind. 

* * *  
There was a powerful, squeezing sensation around James’ neck that startled him awake. His eyes shot open to the image of a man on top of him, strangling him with more force than he thought possible from any human being. James’ arm flew out to the side, where he struggled to turn on the lamp. He was successful, but was filled with horror at the sight of Tiago’s face, twisted into an infuriated expression above him. James thrashed about as Tiago crushed his windpipe.

“YOU DID THIS,” Tiago spat bitterly. He bared his teeth into a menacing snarl. James clutched at the man’s hands wrapped around his neck. “YOU DID THIS TO ME YOU WITCH.” James was filled with the realization that Tiago was sleepwalking, and after another moment of struggle, he delivered a hard backhanded slap to Tiago’s cheek. The man fell off of him, dazed. Air gushed into James’s lungs in large, delicious gulps. He fell to the floor, gasping. Tiago sat, still startled from the slap.

“Tiago…What the hell….Was that….” James panted, collecting himself. Tiago didn’t answer, only staring off in a trance. James caught his breath before sitting next to the unresponsive man. “It seems those pills don’t work. I’ll try a different brand tomorrow,” James said, glancing at the pill bottle on his night stand, trying to lighten the mood.

“James…” Tiago started, looking at him with wide, worried eyes. James embraced him before he could say anything else.

“Don’t. Just forget it, whatever it was. It’s alright,” James whispered against Tiago’s neck, though he felt the opposite. He knew whatever this was, it was far from over. Tiago blamed M, now James needed to know why.


	4. The Closer It Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! More to come!

James winced at the sight of the small bruises along the sides of his neck in the bathroom mirror. Small purple circles were etched on his skin, an imprint of Tiago’s fingers’ deathly grip and a reminder of the incident the night before. With a grunt, James strolled into the bedroom and slid his dresser drawer open, shuffling through his shirts until he came across a navy blue turtleneck. He slid it on with ease. He figured the less Tiago saw, the better.

James wandered into the kitchen, where Tiago was concentrating unnaturally hard on a cross word puzzle. He was gripping the pencil in his hand so tightly, his entire wrist was trembling. James gently set his hand on Tiago’s shoulder in concern. Tiago jumped, startled at the contact.

“Are you alright?” James questioned with a furrowed brow. Tiago stared off for a moment before nodding his head assuredly.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he muttered. James sat at the table and clasped his hands together on its surface. Tiago’s eyes shifted uneasily.

“Tiago, what’s wrong?” James asked sincerely. Tiago paused before answering.

“I told you, nothing. I’m fine,” Tiago insisted. James sighed deeply.

“You know that’s not what I mean…” James muttered. The words cut through the two men’s tension like a knife through butter. Tiago’s expression faded into something unreadable. “Last night-“

“Last night was nothing, James. Nothing,” Tiago cut off in that same deep, monotoned voice that seemed certain and sure of itself, but his distant eyes told another story. James stared on at the man with worry, not even willing to try and say anything. Tiago broke the silence between them.

“We all have night terrors, hm? Mine just happen to be… dangerous.”

“But why do they involve the head of MI6?” James asked a bit too quickly. Tiago’s eyes fell back to the newspaper. He fidgeted with the pencil in his hands anxiously. He clenched his jaw, but remained silent.

“Dammit, Tiago,” James cursed under his breath, reaching up to rub his face with his hands.

“Dammit what, James? Dammit what?” Tiago fired back coldly.

“Dammit, what the hell is going on with you!? You nearly killed me in my sleep last night, you have some deep hatred for M, and you can’t even tell me why! I want to help you!” James reached his hand out to Tiago, but the man nearly fell out of his chair to avoid his touch. Tiago stood, balling his fists and tapping them against his face in frustration.

“What do you want me to say, James!? What would make you feel better!? I’m not okay! I AM NOT OKAY!” Tiago shouted. “If you’re looking for some reassurance, I CAN’T GIVE IT TO YOU! I AM NOT OKAY!” Tiago still clenched the pencil in his fist by his side. James watched it warily. “I am not okay with reliving HELL EVERY SINGLE NIGHT! I am not okay with fearing for my life day in and day out! James, I AM NOT OKAY!” Tiago screamed angrily, his face a fiery red. James watched on with little emotion in his face. He knew he had to let the man get it out of his system.

“James! What do you want from me!?” Tiago asked so desperately, it sounded like a plea.

“I want you healed, Tiago! I want to see the life return to your face, I want to see your smile meet your eyes, and I want you to tell me how you feel! You can’t keep leaving me in the dark, Tiago! I’m here to help you!” James argued. Tiago’s face slowly faded back to its normal color. James stood and wrapped his arms around the man, who didn’t return the gesture.

“I’m here to help you,” James repeated as he rested his head on the man’s shoulder. 

“No one can ever help me,” Tiago drawled lifelessly. At that, he held out his forearm and raked the pencil across his skin, drawing a trail of blood as it went. James snatched the pencil away from Tiago and hurled it across the room.

“Tiago!? What the hell!? James shouted in bewilderment. Tiago’s eyes were glued to the two-inch gash on his arm that was bleeding profusely. James rushed to get some paper towels and disinfectant. He swiftly returned, and Tiago had sunk to the floor against the wall and was clutching his injured arm. His eyes were nearly black, and they stared off into the distance. James knelt down, poured an excessive amount of alcohol on the wound, and wrapped it in paper towels, which Tiago pressed against the wound. James sunk back, staring at Tiago incredulously.

“Want to explain what the hell just happened!?” James suggested, eyes wide in shock. Tiago gazed at him.

“I had to tear flesh. I had to reclaim my own skin and take back what she stole from me,” Tiago replied. James couldn’t suppress the chill that shot up his spine. Steadily, he broke down into tears. Tiago did not comfort him.

* * *  
“Here, try these. They should help you sleep better than those others did,” James said, handing a box of pills to Tiago, who was already opening them. “I also got you some antidepressants, just in case.” James sat on the edge of the bed and pressed his hand to Tiago’s forehead. He had no fever.

“How’s your arm holding up?” James asked. Tiago popped two of the sleeping pills into his mouth and chased them down with a gulp of water. He glanced at his wrapped arm.

“Stings, but it could be worse,” Tiago answered with a smirk. James returned it. 

“I think the night terrors are not only preventing you from sleeping, but they’re also turning into day-terrors,” James sighed. Tiago listened intently. “I’m just hoping that the sleeping pills will knock you out long enough so that you won’t be so restless, and that should solve the rest of your problems. If not, the antidepressants are our last resort.” Tiago nodded in agreement. James stood from the bed and headed towards the living room when Tiago stopped him.

“James,” he called. James turned. Tiago closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “She…she betrayed me…” he said in a croaky voice. His eyes watered. James rushed to his side.

“Tiago, you don’t have to do this now,” James suggested. Tiago shook his head.

“No, I have to. If I don’t say it now, I never will.” He took a few more deep breaths. “Station H. I was sent there for a few months to complete some extra work. I… I wanted to help her… I was trying… trying to make things easier. I illegally hacked them… then… then she gave me up to them. She gave me up, James. She fed me to the wolves…” Tiago blubbered messily. “I was there for months… And I was certain that nobody was coming and it was then I realized that it was all her doing, so I did what any other man would have done. I tried to end it…” James winced at the end, unable to hear of Tiago’s suicide attempt. Tiago gripped James’ hand hard and stared him dead in the eyes.

“James, she did this to me. She gave me up and subjected me to all of this pain. I can never ever forgive her,” Tiago said through clenched teeth and an iron voice. James processed the information slowly, trying to make sense of what had happened. He knew there had to be more to this than Tiago was telling him, or more to it than the man knew.

“Tiago, that doesn’t make sense. She can be bitter, but she isn’t evil. If she… if she gave you up… she must have received some sort of benefit…”

“What benefit is possibly more valuable than an employee’s life?” Tiago fired icily, his tone causing James to wince. James thought for a moment with a furrowed brow.

“I guess… I guess several employee’s lives,” James muttered distantly. Tiago’s insides boiled.

“Get out,” Tiago spat. James was taken aback by his bitterness.

“Tiago-“

“Get. Out.” James reluctantly exited the room and closed the door behind him, but he stayed close long enough to hear the screams of pain come pouring out, just like they always did.

* * *  
James took a swig of vodka from the bottle, intoxicated enough to hardly notice as it trickled down his lips and dripped down onto his shirt. He stared out the window with bloodshot eyes, watching the moon creep higher into the sky with every passing minute. Reluctantly, he sat forward out of the rocking chair and set the bottle down on the table, where two empty beer bottles already had been placed. He trudged into the bedroom.

The windows were open, allowing the moonlight to pour in, bright enough so that James could make out objects in the room. He stumbled over to the bed, where Tiago was finally fast asleep, and threw himself in it, pulling the covers over his body. He lay on his side, facing Tiago. Even in his drunken stupor, he could admire how peaceful the man looked when he was sleeping soundly. He watched his chest rise and fall, as relaxing to watch as it was to watch waves gather and retreat on the sand.

James adjusted his body so that he was pressed up against the dark-haired man. He leaned in and pressed his moist lips to the man’s neck. After a pause, he looked up.

“Through everything, I still love you,” he whispered.

“You’re just saying that,” Tiago whispered back. James smirked at the man’s response, chuckling at the fact that he had never actually been asleep. Tiago returned the laugh, his eyes still closed.

“Am not,” James remarked childishly. Tiago’s lips spread into a smile.

“Oh really? Because I can smell the vodka on your breath from here,” Tiago retorted. The two of them snickered. Tiago opened his eyes and turned his head to stare at James with a solemn expression. “I don’t want you drinking for me.” James let his eyes fall to the sheets.

“I’m not drinking for you, I’m drinking because of you,” he replied. After a pause, the two men erupted into another fit of school-boy laughter. James waited for it to die down before he spoke again. “You should really get some sleep.”

“So should you,” Tiago said with a smile. James returned it as his eyes wandered over to the peek of Tiago’s chest visible through his button down shirt. His smile faded at the sight of the scar tissue. Tiago followed his eyes there warily.

“You can look if you want,” Tiago whispered with a smirk, though his eyes appeared haunted with the memories. James took a moment to respond in his exhaustion and intoxication. Slowly, he shook his head.

“No, no, I’d really rather not,” he said. 

“Just look. It will be good for both of us,” Tiago insisted softly. James was hesitant to react, but his hand wandered over to the buttons of the man’s shirt. He took his time in undoing each one, in no rush for the sight to come. Then he spread the shirt apart. Tiago exhaled deeply, revealing how long he’d been holding his breath. The scars were healing well and were not nearly as grotesque as the first time around. Some had already faded to the soft pink. Others were still in bandages. James reached his hand out, but paused, looking at Tiago for permission first. He nodded in agreement.

James let his fingers trail over the man’s entire chest, tracing each scar gently, thinking of the pain that lingered beneath each one of them.

“Each one,” Tiago said, his voice echoing in the silence. “Has its own story. This one,” he spoke softly, taking James’ finger and guiding it to a scar that ran down the very center of his torso, along the gap between his rib cage. “Was a scalpel. You can tell because of the precision, the purpose behind it. Almost like art. This one,” he led James’ finger to one on his left pectoral. “This one was a shard of glass. You can see the jagged edges to it, it’s a dead giveaway.” James gazed at Tiago’s face, searching his expression for what, he did not know. All he saw was pain. Pain in the wrinkles beside the man’s eyes, pain in the furrow of his brow, and pain in the way he moved his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” James noted. Tiago looked at him, taken aback by the sudden burst of affection. “Each and every imperfection is perfect to me,” he added. Tiago remained silent. James took this as a decent time to change the subject. “We should sleep.” Tiago nodded in agreement. The men flipped themselves onto their sides and shut their eyes to get some sleep. For the first time in ages, they both did.


	5. Words Just Spoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James recalls the old times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for being inconsistent with this fix! I'd encourage you to go back and reread the last chapter or two, so this all makes sense. My apologies once again... This is a short chapter but I'm working on the next one as we speak. I hope to wrap this fix up by next week!

James peeled his heavy eyes open, surprised at how difficult the simple action was. He turned on his side to face where Tiago… wasn’t. Confused and still groggy, he sat up and scanned around the room before stumbling into the bathroom. No sign of him. James dashed into the living room and stopped in his tracks, relief flooding through him at the sight of the man sitting at the kitchen table eating a plate of scrambled eggs while sipping from a coffee mug. He glanced up at the panting James, his forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. 

“Hungry?” Tiago quipped through a half-lidded gaze and a sly smirk. James scoffed, walking over to kiss the top of the man’s head.

“I can get it myself,” James replied, strolling into the kitchen to fetch a cup of freshly-made coffee. “How are you?” James asked while retrieving a mug.

“Better,” Tiago responded cheerfully. James smiled at this.

“Really?” He asked, stopping to gaze at the brown-haired man. Tiago nodded enthusiastically. James poured the coffee into his cup and went to sit down at the table beside the man. “How so?” James questioned. Tiago waited until he finished chewing his food before he spoke.

“Well, I feel rested and just… I don’t know… better,” Tiago explained. James grinned at this. He scooted his chair closer to the man until their knees were touching.

“Good enough to go celebrate?” James asked softly. Tiago smiled sincerely, leaning in to meet James’ lips with his own. They sat there, pressing against each other for a moment. Tiago broke away first.

“Alcohol. I want to celebrate with alcohol,” he muttered, his breath tickling James’s chin. James smiled in response.

“I think that can be arranged. I can run down and get s-“

“No, no, James. Let’s go out,” Tiago cut off, grazing his lips against James’ seductively. “Let’s go somewhere, you and I. A bar. We’ll celebrate together, just like old times,” Tiago drawled in a husky, breathy tone. James’s heart fluttered at the memory of the old times he and Tiago shared. How they got drunk at bars and had clumsy yet thrilling sex. Then endless nights of talking under the stars and blow jobs and their constant playful battle for dominance. How those times seemed to last forever, yet here they were, and those days seemed like ages ago…

* * *  
“James,” Tiago’s young, accent-heavy voice whispered.

“Hmm?” James replied, matching his hushed tone. 

“Do you think you could… maybe…” Tiago drawled.

“It’s your turn this week, and I am thoroughly enjoying this film,” James complained. Tiago glanced up at the black-and-white drive-in picture of Creature From the Black Lagoon and scoffed.

“James, you’ve seen it before.”

“Not at a drive-in.”

“Maybe because nobody ever DOES drive-ins anymore,” Tiago replied in amusement. “And what difference does it make if we’re in a theater seat or a car?” James frowned in silence. Tiago leaned in closer to the man, who was still concentrating on the screen. “Oh, no, wait, I’ll tell you the difference. The difference is that you can suck me off in a car without anyone knowing,” Tiago snickered. James glared at him childishly.

“But it’s YOUR turn!” James complained as loudly as he could without attracting any of the other vehicles’ attention. Tiago scoffed humorously.

“That garbage you gave last week did not count,” Tiago prodded. James pursed his lips in frustration. Tiago sighed in defeat. “Alright, what if we compromise? You do me, then I’ll do you,” Tiago explained with a big goofy grin. James nodded reluctantly.

“Fine,” he surrendered, leaning down to press his face against Tiago’s already-hard groin. Tiago slid his hand on top of James’ head, caressing his neck in encouragement.

“Make it good, or you won’t get shit,” Tiago added. James glanced up at him as he unzipped the man’s trousers.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” he replied.

“Oh, stop complaining. Just make it good, James. It isn’t difficult. I’m… sensitive,” Tiago quipped. James cackled at the last remark.

Moments later, Tiago’s eyes shifted from the screen to James swiftly, trying to keep a straight face as best as he could, though he knew the sharp gasps weren’t helping. 

“Jesus, James,” Tiago whispered. “Where did this skill set come from?” He joked with a grin.

****  
James glanced over at Tiago in the passenger seat. He was staring out the car window, humming a subtle tune. James smiled at the man happily. Not long ago Tiago had sat in the same exact seat a different person. A wounded man. James frowned at the thought. He turned his eyes back to the road.  
Tiago glanced over at the man, a tiny smirk flaunting on his lips. Keeping his eyes on the road, James cleared his throat.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. Tiago exhaled deeply, relaxed.

“Fine. Better,” he replied truthfully.

“Good,” James said. There was a long moment of silence as Tiago stared out of the window, watching the buildings go by. He gazed at the Chinese symbols marking the signs and titling the shops. He didn’t know what they said. He didn’t really want to.

“Thank you,” Tiago said, facing James again. James knew what the thanks was for, but he still wanted to hear the words come from his lover’s lips.

“For what?”

“Everything. I know I didn’t make things easy, but… I can’t imagine where I’d be had you not saved me,” Tiago explained glumly. James thought for a moment before replying.

“Do you remember what you told me just before you shipped off to Hong Kong? It was the last time we saw each other,” James asked, eyeing the man beside him out of his peripheral vision.

“Yes,” Tiago stated softly, as if recalling a sad old memory. “I told you that the next time we’d see each other would be the happiest day of my life…” James remained silent, letting the words just spoken fill the silence. Finally Tiago spoke again. “That still held true, under the circumstances.” James smirked.

“I’m glad.” Then he pulled the car over to the curb and put it in park and leaned over and kissed Tiago as hard as he could. It felt like a long while before they were headed towards the bar again.


	6. Blood On His Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn for the very worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an emotional chapter to write, and I even found myself tearing up a bit. I hope you enjoy this chapter! This is not the end!! More is on the way!

James pulled the car up to a small bar that lined a busy city street. Next to it was a laundromat and a food stand selling various kinds of fruits. James and Tiago walked into the bar.

The interior of the bar was much more luxurious than the exterior made it out to be. The bar itself looked as if it was made from an expensive, light-colored wood, and had an internal lighting system. Rows of neatly organized bottles of wine, scotch, champagne, beer, and more were placed behind the bar. Low hanging lights lit the place nicely, giving it a modern feel. In the back of the building, people sat in comfortable red leather chairs sipping their drinks and speaking their native tongue. Men gathered around the three pool tables in the middle of the room, laughing cheerfully as they bet on one another.

James glanced at Tiago, who seemed to have the same thought on his mind. Such an expensive bar for the area it was placed in…

James and Tiago took their seats at the bar. James ordered a glass of scotch while Tiago ordered a glass of elegant champagne. It wasn’t until the bartender whisked off to get their drinks that either of them spoke.

“Can you afford this place, James?” Tiago questioned casually. James shrugged.

“I can splurge. It’s been a while since I’ve spent any real money. I’ll be alright,” James replied, nudging Tiago’s chin with his finger. Tiago smiled in response. It was a few moments before the bartender returned with their drinks, and all that time the two had sat in a sort of pleasant silence. It wasn’t until James had taken two sips of his bitterly tart scotch that he noticed a shift in Tiago’s body language.

The man’s head was lowered as he sipped his drink. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes shifted uneasily. But more concerning, James saw his hands trembling. James felt his stomach drop at the realization that something was horribly wrong. He placed his hand on the man’s back for comfort and leaned in closely.

“Tiago… what’s wrong?” James whispered. Tiago didn’t reply. He kept his frightened eyes glued to the bar’s surface. Consumed with worry, James gently placed his hand over the other man’s. Tiago gently lifted his head and looked into James’ eyes with an expression of terror so severe it was as if the two had been tossed into a horror film. Tiago parted his lips, about to speak, before everything became so jarringly clear.

A thick Chinese man walked up to Tiago and poked him hard in the back obnoxiously with his index finger. Tiago slowly turned to face him. The Chinese man grinned menacingly. Behind him, other goons started to pay attention. The man leaned in close to Tiago.

“You thought you could get away, did you?” The man drawled in a heavily-accented breathy tone. Tiago’s whole body tensed at the sound of the man’s voice. “I remember you all too well. I remember hearing you scream in the dark. I remember you begging me to stop. I remember your tears,” the man said, sending a chill up Tiago’s spine. James was paralyzed. Everything in his mind told him to beat this fucker until there was nothing left, but his body wouldn’t move. He watched Tiago struggle helplessly.

“I think you’re going to come with me, little rat,” the man said with a grin. Tiago’s hands clenched and unclenched as he struggled internally. The man placed his hand on Tiago’s shoulder, but, in a flash, Tiago had smashed his glass against the bar and jammed the jagged remnants into the man’s jugular. It all happened so quickly that James just gaped. The man collapsed to the floor in a sputtering bloody mess as Tiago just stared wide-eyed at him. Screams echoed all around the bar, snapping James out of his trance-like state. He scanned around to see people all staring at Tiago and the man on the floor. James walked up to his partner and clutched his arm in an iron grip.

“Tiago, we have to go!” Tiago didn’t budge, but just stared on at the man on the floor with wild eyes and parted lips. “Tiago, dammit! WE HAVE TO FUCKING GO!” This snapped him awake, and together, James and Tiago bolted out of the restaurant and into their nearby car.

James started the ignition and slammed on the gas while Tiago stared at the blood on his hands. After a few moments, James spoke nervously.

“Tiago, what the fuck was that?” James questioned half-angrily. Tiago shook his head slowly. “You just fucking murdered somebody!” James said, panicked.

“Not ‘somebody’!” Tiago fired back angrily. “That man had caused me more pain than you could ever FUCKING imagine, James!” James clenched his jaw. “Yeah, I killed him! And you know what, I FUCKING LIKED IT!” James swerved the car sharply over to a vacant street curb, next to an alleyway. He yanked the key out of the ignition and sat there, staring at Tiago.

“What?” James managed. Tiago glanced at his hands again and then at James. 

“Yes, I liked it! And you know what!? I want to do it again, James! I want to make them suffer! I want to deliver them to the very hell they put me through!” Tiago exclaimed. James couldn’t stop staring at Tiago’s wild eyes.

“Tiago, you’re high on adrenaline right now, you’re not thinking clearly…” James stated calmly. Tiago’s face twisted in rage at this.

“James, SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU DON’T KNOW ME! YOU DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL!” And with that, Tiago opened the door and stalked into the alley, making sure to slam the car door shut. James closed his eyes and sighed before following the man.

Tiago paced furiously in the alleyway. James calmly approached him.

“Tiago-“ he said.

“Don’t you fucking ‘Tiago’ me, James!” 

“What is your problem!? I am trying to help you! Don’t you see!? All I’ve ever done is tried to h-“

“No, you haven’t! No you fucking haven’t, James! You have sat by and watched me go through hell! So what!? You bandaged my wounds and bought me fucking sleeping pills, which, I lied, DO NOT FUCKING WORK!” James was silenced. He watched Tiago’s tantrum unfold. “Then you defend the very woman who put me through all of this shit and get angry at me for killing someone who TORTURED ME FOR FIVE FUCKING MONTHS ENDLESSLY! YOU CALL THAT HELPING!?”

“Tiago, what is wrong with you!?” James shot back. “Why are you so blind!? I love you!” Tiago shook his head in silence. 

“No, you don’t. You love the old me. You love the memories of us. You cannot possibly love this thing I have become,” Tiago said.

“But I do…”

“STOP LYING TO ME!! NO, YOU DON’T! YOU LOVE YOUR COUNTRY, YOU LOVE YOUR PRECIOUS FUCKING BOSS, BUT YOU DO NOT LOVE ME! SAY IT! SAY YOU DON’T LOVE ME!” James shook his head.

“I can’t-“

“SAY IT!”

“Tiag-“

“SAY IT!”

“I WISH I HAD NEVER SAVED YOU!” Tiago stared on in silence at this. “All of this pain you have caused me when I tried to help you get back to yourself! I tried to be there for you! But you keep pushing me away and I have debated with myself if you were even worth this!” James spat furiously. Tiago’s eyes sank to the concrete below them.

“At least you can admit it. At least you are aware of the monster I’ve become…” Tiago muttered brokenly. “I know you don’t love who and what I am now, but I always loved you,” he said with a damaged smile. With that, he walked away. James called after him desperately, but even as the tears rolled down his face, he knew he’d never see the man again.


	7. What He's Become

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!!! Sorry this chapter is so short, I'm trying to be wise with what content goes in what chapter. Anyways, enjoy!

2012

James had deteriorated. The years passed by in a blur for the agent. Years of fighting and running and torture and torment. Years of killing and promotions and useless information. Years of Queen and country - a slogan that didn’t mean much to him anymore. It was all the same and James was numb.

So, he lost himself, or rather, willingly let it all go. He lost himself in the meaningless sex, the drinks, the drugs, the exercise. He was a shadow of the ambitious young agent he once was. And he was tired. So tired.

Not a day passed where he didn’t think about Tiago Rodriguez. Everyday he recalled the man in his mind. The pain he went through for that love was perhaps the most agonizing thing he’d ever done, and yet he missed it more than anything. He missed being intoxicated by the other man’s sweet, sensual affection. And yet, he despised those days. He loathed the memories. Nothing was more painful than thinking of what he could have done to save Tiago, but didn’t. Nothing was more painful than the lies he fed himself, swearing that he couldn’t have been saved. 

Everyone can be saved. Everyone except James Bond.

So when the tan, platinum-aired man exited the elevator and gave a long, well-rehearsed monologue about rats, for the first time in years, James actually felt something.

 

****

 

His presence was like the firing of a gun in a silent room. The way he walked was predatory. The way he spoke was practiced and precise. The way he looked was clean-shaven and handsome, but even to the untrained eye, he obscured a dark secret.

“The two survivors. This is what she made us.”

“Did she now?” James questioned with an amused glint in his eye. 

“Mm,” the man responded, following with a shark-like grin.

“And just who did you eat to be here today?” Bond asked. The man laughed coldly.

“You’re a funny man, Mr. Bond,” he replied, pulling up a chair to sit in front of the restrained agent.

“Well, I’ve heard that before,” James retorted, thinking back to his days in the casino.

“I’m sure you have… Torture, it’s no fun, is it?” he asked, bordering between sincerity and bitterness.

“You would know?” James replied sarcastically. The man’s lips twitched.

“Let’s not play games, Mr. Bond. I think we both know of the elephant in the room, so why not address it?” He said, raising his eyebrows. James said nothing out of hesitation.

“Why so reluctant, James? We both know who I truly am. What? Afraid to speak it into existence, are we?” he taunted, far too playfully for James’ liking. “Well, allow me to inform you of something, Mr. Bond. We cannot run from the truth,” he growled, leaning forward in his chair. “It haunts us. It finds us. It betrays us. Then it tortures us.”

“Tiago.” James spoke sharply under his breath, as if just speaking the name was considered taboo. Raoul Silva smiled and leaned back.

“You’re slower than I remember, James,” he teases through a sneer. 

“And you’re… uglier than I remember, Mr. Silva,” James fired back, trying to regain his balance from the crippling blow that was Tiago Rodriguez.

“Ooh, that stings,” Silva hissed, giving a mock-grimace. 

“Really? I would consider you a man who’s numb to pain by now, Mr. Silva,” James jabbed. Silva leaned forward again, menacing and predatory. So much so that James thought he would kill him right there on the spot.  
“Like yourself?” Silva asked, eyes wandering over Bond’s entire body, making the agent feel more vulnerable than he ever had before. “The drugs, the alcohol, the sex. Oh, the sex…” Silva mocked. “All of those women just throwing themselves at you. So desperate. So… pathetic,” he purred, running his hands down Bond’s thighs. The act came out of nowhere. He was so far from the man James once knew, it was an impossible thought to think this was Tiago Rodriguez.

“Well?” Silva questioned. 

“Sometimes ‘pathetic’ is a good fuck,” Bond lied. Silva withdrew with a smirk and a single laugh. Then he stood, wandered behind Bond, untied the ropes that bound his wrists together and stood in front of him, all in one, graceful movement. Like a dancer.

“Come. Let me show you something,” he said, turning to walk down the length of the building. With reluctance and a glance back at the guards, Bond followed. Only one thing remained on his mind.

Perhaps not everyone can be saved.


	8. The Man Behind the Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After high demand, and a few years, I’ve decided to return to this fanfic! Do enjoy!

It was an ever-occurring thought in Bond’s mind that some day, he would be bested by a foe. Some day, he would screw up, or make a fatal error - such as a small detail he didn’t notice. A small detail that would be his undoing. Perhaps it would be the slight tint of his poisoned drink, or the glint of bad intentions in someone’s eyes. Or maybe, just maybe, it would be someone he loved. A knife into his back and straight through his heart. Yes, that would be the most likely scenario, because no matter how cold he wanted to be, he did have a heart - which was as of right now, pounding in his chest with every step he took. He was walking behind platinum hair and a cream-colored suit - one with an aura of such confidence, Bond could practically feel it’s strut.

The voice that came from that suit was as layered as a child bundled up, prepared to venture out into the arctic snow. It’s surface was light and playful - flamboyant, if you will. But Bond had just enough training in these things to detect the darkness beneath it all. The kind of darkness that came from years and years of endless suffering and pain. Worse than that, it was the kind of darkness that had nowhere to go. Like electricity with no outlet, fear with no mind, and death with no victim, it was trapped as it festered within the man in the suit. Hell, it probably bounced around his internal organs, making his lungs expand and compress, his heart beat, and his eyes move. Yes, Bond was sure this was the kind of man who was fueled by it. Without it, he had no purpose.

From the time they’d wandered from the massive computer room to the spot where they now stood - in front of a statue in ruins, where Severine had been tied, Bond actually felt something. What it was, he did not know. But it was intense enough to make his throat go dry and his knees feel weak. “Could this be... love?” He thought to himself. “No... worse. Heartbreak?” Bond stiffened his posture in an effort to conceal his weakened state, hoping that these bloody inconvenient thoughts vanished with it. It makes sense, the thoughts continued. You loved him more than you ever loved a woman. Bond clenched his jaw, unwilling to be affected by his sudden spurt of consciousness. But he was all too aware of the aches gnawing at him internally. There was nothing... nothing like seeing the person who you once loved become this... this... “Monster?” He thought.

“I won’t play your games,” Bond’s voice echoed throughout the island, it’s foundation one of cold steel. Mr. Silva wasn’t taken off guard as he looked from the Percussion Cap pistol he was presenting to Bond back to the woman down range.

“Would you like to join her?” He asked, his eyes a piercing blue but with the edge in Silva’s voice, Bond swore they could have been black in that very moment.

“I’d love to,” he replied, almost matter-of-factly. A faint, serpent-like smirk played over Silva’s lips briefly. Those lips used to belong to me, Bond’s thoughts noted. 

“Be careful what you wish for, James. You just might get it,” Silva played, before pressing the barrel of the pistol to Bond’s forehead. It felt like ice on his skin, and it’s contact sent a shiver down Bond’s spine, but nevertheless, he reached his hands up and removed his sunglasses, throwing them to the dirt. He closed his eyes, almost finding comfort in the familiar feeling of grazing death once more. However, whether or not he would be embraces by its welcoming arms all depended upon the man behind the gun. Bond opened his eyes. Silva’s face was as much an expressionless stone as the statue they stood in front of. His eyes were slightly squinted, his lips unmoving. His blonde locks danced gracefully in the calm breeze.

“It’s up to you, James. Do I pull the trigger?” He asked, his accent heavy. Bond’s lips upturned.

“You’re letting me decide? You’re not very good at this villainy stuff, are you?” Bond joked, closing his eyes again, as if trying to drift into unconsciousness and away from this situation.

“Villainy,” Silva muttered, as if contemplating the word’s origin. Bond reopened his eyes to the thoughtful expression on Silva’s face. “What makes you think I’m the villain?”

“You’re not. You’re in pain,” Bond replied, making Silva’s expression turn back to stone. “I’ve encountered villains before, Tiago. You will never be one.” This earned one brief, sharp chuckle from Silva’s lips. 

“Why do you say that?” Bond’s eyes trailed up to the gun still pressed hard against his forehead, his nostrils stinging with the scent of the weapon’s gunpowder. Then he looked back at Silva.

“Because I watched you suffer. My hands are still tainted with your blood. For that, I will never consider you the villain.” Bond watched as the thoughts ricocheted throughout Silva’s head, bouncing off of each other and the inside of his skull. His eyes searched Bond’s for something else, but they weren’t finding what they desired. So, in one swift motion, Silva retreated the gun from Bond’s head, pointed it down the range, and fired, leaving a puff of smoke in the air. Bond heard the all-too-familiar sound of a bullet meeting flesh, and he turned his head to see Severine crumple, blood dripping from her head. Silva never looked away from Bond’s face.

A moment of silence passed between the two men before Silva ordered his guards away. The two waited, hearing their heavy footsteps retreat until they could no longer be heard. It was then that Silva wrapped his calloused hand around Bond’s neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. Bond cooperated, moving his lips in sync with the other man’s, tasting his lifetime of pain and regret. “It tastes so good,” Bond thought. He breathed into Silva’s mouth and the other man did the same, synchronizing with each other and making up for their lost years of numbness. Bond never felt more alive than he did right here, attached to Tiago’s lips.

Finally, Tiago pulled away with a sharp breath, pressing his forehead to Bond’s, a gesture like that of an old friend. Softly, he whispered, “Take me to her,” and presented his hands to Bond. Bond knew the intentions behind this gesture, and he knew this was one of those moments where he would have to make a decision to play along in the man’s game or not. He wanted to forfeit, to throw in the towel right then and there. To enjoy their reunion in solitude, with no concerns of M or either of their pasts. It was a dream he’d had for many years that had never left him. But that was all it was. A dream. Bond thought back to their years together. He thought about Tiago’s wit and charm, and all the times he’d been conned into doing whatever he wanted. But he did it happily, because if Tiago was happy, then James was too. That’s how it had been.

So when Bond looked into those artificial eyes, he didn’t see blue. He saw a deep, golden brown. He saw the same eyes he fell in love with all those years ago - the same eyes that were never the same after Hong Kong. The very same eyes he would have done anything for.

Bond obliged, giving in to Silva’s request to bring him in. As he signaled on his radio for the helicopters, then as the helicopters arrived, and as they were ushered into them by backup agents, one thought gnawed relentlessly at the back of Bond’s head and tugged at his heart like an angry parent prying their stubborn child away from the playground and back home. It was more than annoying, it was ruthless... torturous almost to the point where Bond wanted to scream out loud for it to go away and allow him to live in peace. To live in the fantasy that everything was going to be okay and that all had been restored to what it once was. But yet, it persisted, cold and dark and unwavering as it echoed through his head - a lonely, haunting voice in an isolated cave, carried by the very darkness that also swallowed it whole.

“He’s playing you,” it said.


End file.
